


like folk songs

by screamferociously



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little bit of angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Harry Potter, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Draco is totally a woman's name, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry's Birthday, Lesbian Draco Malfoy, Married Life, Not Epilogue Compliant, Sex swap, female!Draco Malfoy - Freeform, female!Harry Potter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamferociously/pseuds/screamferociously
Summary: Birthdays can bring up some unpleasant thoughts. Harry Potter turns 40, and she's glad her wife's around for a morning in.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42
Collections: Harry Potter Femslash Collection 2020





	like folk songs

**Author's Note:**

> I live for female!drarry, is all. Also I love Harry Potter, and I wanted to write something for the special date. Draco is totally a woman's name, you can't change my mind (though sometimes I make it short for Draconyx bc Draco is one extra lady). Anyway, here's some fluff!

Harry wakes slowly. It's the morning of her 40th birthday, and she'd not mind sleeping in a bit longer. When she fully opens her eyes, however, Draco is already up, wearing her silken robes, sipping from a steaming cup.

"Hey, old lady... Happy birthday."

"You turned 40 before I did!" Harry shoots back indignantly, slipping on her glasses. Her sleepy voice is all croaky and choppy, but she refuses to be bad mouthed first thing in the morning without putting up a fight. "How am  _ I _ the old lady!?"

Draco raises a dangerous eyebrow, and Harriet knows better than to insist. Instead, she sits up and steals the cup of tea her wife was holding, taking a long sip. It's her birthday, also known as the only day of the year when stealing tea is not an offense punishable by jinx. No, today all it earns her is a glare and a huff.

"What do you want to do today?" Draco asks, pulling her long hair into a ponytail. "And don't just say stay in bed, you lazy arsehole."

Harry grumbles, giving her the mug back only so she can cocoon herself back into her blankets. "I want to stay in bed!"

"Nope. We can stay in for a bit, but we're doing something today!"

"Fine. Bastard. You be big spoon, though." Harry tries to throw her her best puppy eyed look, knowing full well it doesn’t usually work on Draco... But she still has a soft spot for Harry, she's certain.

Draco sighs, setting her tea on the bedside table, but instead of going around like a normal person she flops onto Harry, so she'll either move or be squished. Harry laughs, her glasses having been knocked askew by Draco's errant elbow, and she scoots back, so eventually they are both under the blankets, Draco's arms and legs wrapped around her like a four-limbed octopus. Harry melts into the familiar warmth, the safety she feels in Draco's arms a welcomed sensation.

Harry closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Draco's lips roaming her neck, her earlobe. This is home, this is  _ good _ . At some point, a long time ago, Harry was certain she would never get to feel this way, would never be allowed to know this kind of love. And it didn't come easy; does it ever? But here they are.

Only two months ago they'd been solemnly honoring the fallen at the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.  _ Together _ . And only 25 days ago they'd been in France, celebrating Draco's birthday in a chateau in the woods.  _ Together _ . How long has it been now? 16 years they’ve been together. How could it be that someday Harry will have celebrated more birthdays  _ with _ Draco than without her. Time becomes a funny thing, the older you get. 

Back when she was a girl, Harry had sometimes wondered how long she'd last. Stuck in that cupboard, starving, she'd thought more than once that another minute without food would finally end her. But she'd survived that, hadn't she. And then she was a witch, and she was at Hogwarts, and she never went hungry, but there was a mad man bent on murdering her. In some ways, she hadn't survived that.

But here she was. Somehow, alive. And Draco. Mad, brilliant, ridiculous, lovely Draco. They’d once been so nasty to each other, so incredibly mean... And now Draco knows love from her, knows Harry in a way no one else ever had, not even Ginny, way back when. 

Draco holds her hand tightly in her own.

"Knut for your thoughts?" she whispers, as if sensing Harry's state of mind. She does that often, and in the beginning, oh so long ago now, Harry had thought more than once she was using Legilimency on her. No more, though. Harry knows now. And more... She could do the same for Draco. Could also sense her deepest thoughts. Is that not mad?

"I'm just thinking it's weird to turn 40 when you were sure you'd die at 17," Harry says, truthfully, even though she'd not planned to be so forthcoming. The words just spill out, easily, like a gasp when one's surprised. Harry wonders if Draco will ever not have that effect on her. If her heart will ever slow down around her, her mind ever be truly clear. She doubts it. She doubts she wants it, too.

"Isn't it just," Draco says, and the bitterness in her tone isn't directed at Harry, but it still pains her. She shouldn't be bringing this up, shouldn't be making things hard. She can't always help it. Draco would say it's the Gryffindor in her.

Harry squirms and turns around, resting her hand on Draco's waist, locking eyes with her.

"You ever think this is a crazy turn of events still?" Harry asks quietly, searching Draco's face. Her pretty skin is still unblemished, but there are deeper lines all over, her sharp angles becoming more accentuated with age. Her cool grey eyes haven't changed any, however. They're still sharp, alert, almost... Dragon like. If Harry isn't careful, she could still get burnt. Something about the thrill, she supposes. Something about the thrill is what brought them together.

"I think this is the natural turn of events," Draco says evenly, calmly. It's almost out of character, but Harry knows her well enough to know this is her being defensive.

Harry smiles, teasing. She winks at Draco. "'s what I thought."

Draco grins back, relief flashing across her face.

"Good."

"Good."

"Kiss me?"

"Yeah..."

And Harry does. It never gets old, even if they do. Draco is softer than she looks, and her hands roam Harry's short hair, playing with the fuzz of her undercut lovingly. Her mouth is open, gasping, welcoming. Harry could kiss her forever.

"So? What are we doing?" Draco asks, minutes later, and they're still comfortably tangled beneath the covers. Harry takes a deep breath, basking in the sweet scent of Draco's shampoo, and the smell of her skin, so close, so good. Then, she squints at her suspiciously.

"Why do you want so badly to get me out of the house?" Harry asks, watching her wife carefully.

Draco's face is a mask of perfect neutrality.

"We don't go out together nearly enough, we've had this conversation. You're almost uh... How do I put this nicely... A couch potato." She quirks an eyebrow at Harry, daring her to say otherwise.

"I'm perfectly active! I'm at the store most days! I take walks!"  _ Sometimes _ , she doesn't add.

"You're at the store, and then you're home, and sometimes you're at the Grangers' place, or Weasleys'... But mostly you're in here, obsessing over crystals, or tracking down wood salesmen, or out bargaining about wand core prices..." Draco sighs dramatically, the picture of distress, frowning deeply. "A witch gets  _ lonely _ , you know? I need my wife to take me on dates. Make me feel  _ wanted _ ." Another deep, pitiful sigh. Harry squints at her some more.

"Draco... What are you up to? Should I be worried about a party?"

Draco scoffs, a bit  _ too _ harshly for Harry's taste. "Oh, please. As if I'd be out with you, allowing someone else to decorate a party in our house. You know how particular I am, love. I'd first die."

That calms Harry down a tad, because if there's anything her wife is, is zealous over party preparations.

"Fine. Wyatt's? For lunch?"

Wyatt's was a little muggle restaurant a few blocks from Diagon Alley, and though they'd never admit it to anyone, going there was a tradition neither of them meant to start. It just became the place they're always at. So what if its decorations are tacky, and the chips are too oily. It’s their spot.

" _ Boring, _ " Draco complains, the hand she had on the small of Harry's back squeezing a bit. "Let's go somewhere new!"

"Fine, fine..." Harry concedes, smiling at her. "You'll pick, then."

"Of course," Draco replies, sticking her nose in the air, all snooty and posh, and Harriet wants to kiss her, so she does.

"And there won't be a party waiting for us when we're back, right?" Harry asks when they break away yet again, just to be certain.

"There won't be a party, love," Draco nods.

And Harry doesn't believe her one bit, but she still drags her to the tub, because fuck if she's gonna let a party ruin her birthday. She's 40, and she wants a nice morning in with her wife, fooling around in the bath like they're still twenty-somethings. She'll worry about a party when it's time for it.


End file.
